Another Manaqish story

Fellow blogger, Qifa Nabki, sent me this (I cite with his permission): "A couple years ago, I told my friend (who was a student at AUB at the time) that my favorite manqousheh in the Hamra area was made by the al-Afran al-Wataniyya branch on Bliss street. The magical thing about it was the crust: not too doughy like other places (especially Faisal), and with a delicious texture... almost like ka`k, but thicker. Anyway, my friend told me: "Yeah I like that place too. If you go in there and say the password, they will hand you a to-go box with a lump of hashish inside." "What's the password?" I asked. He said: "You need to go in and say to the guy:
أعطيني واحد كوكتيل عا ذوقـك
(Give me one cocktail, according to your taste). I never tried it, but my friend would know."

PS Damn. These stories about Manaqish are really making me hungry for Manaqish. I loved them since I was a child. When I was a child, my grandfather (on my mother's side) in Beirut would regulalry send the maid to pick up some newspapers from our house. As soon as I would hear the door bell, I would grab the newspapers, and and hide under the dinning table. (I can still remember me hiding under the dining table). I would say: I would not give her the newspapers until she gives me manaqish. Sure enough, the grandfather realized that he can get his newspapers provided I get my manaqish.